


Three Fights and a Butchered Hand

by smelly_swede



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smelly_swede/pseuds/smelly_swede
Summary: “I don’t know you,” he says, shifting his weight off the post. “You in Riften lookin’ for trouble?”





	

He has three priorities, in the following order: mead, fighting, and fucking.

 So he has no bloody clue how he ended up with a job like this, listening to the rain against his armour as he watches the street like some kind of guard dog. His thoughts are interrupted by a short burst of laughter and shouting from within the Bee and Barb, reminding him that there are lucky bastards drinking themselves silly in the warm whilst he, Maul, is out here whilst it’s pissing it down.

He turns his head at the sound of creaking wood. A stranger has come to Riften, it seems. He watches from the shadows. Their armour is bashed up big time, and they’re limping slightly on one leg, with their sword, shield and pack all slung over one side. They reach up with gauntleted-hands to tug off their horned helmet. Out falls a dark braid. Her face is bruised and tired, with dark, sunken eyes and a split lip. She comes closer, not spotting him, and she starts when he speaks.

“I don’t know you,” he says, shifting his weight off the post. “You in Riften lookin’ for trouble?”

“I’m not really in any state to be causing trouble right now,” she tells him bitterly, once she’s recovered. She flexes her hand around the strap of her pack. She’s tense. Moody.

He feels his lips twist into a snarl of their own accord. “Don’t say something you’ll regret. Last thing the Black-Briars need is some loudmouth tryin’ to meddle in their affairs.”

“ _Black_ - _Briars_?” she says, giving him a withering look.

“Got Riften in their pocket. And the Thieves Guild watchin’ their back. So keep your nose out of their business.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll be dealing with me.”

“And you are?”

“Me? I’m Maul. I watch the street for ‘em. You need dirt on anythin’? I’m your guy. But it’ll cost you.”

She glances up the street, then back to him. “Dirt, huh? I’m not exactly clean myself.”

He barks out a laugh, and she scowls. “Then you’re stupider than you look…you better watch your ass around here.” Maul turns his back on her and leaves her in the middle of the street.

 

§ 

 

All things considered, Nara has had worse welcomes in many places. Riften is a dark, wooden city, with lots of suspicious nook and crannies. She walks over to a railing and leans over it and is surprised to find herself staring into murky green water below.

The local inn is pleasant enough. In a rented room, she strips out of her armour, takes a hot bath and eats three bowls of thick stew. Her body rejoices at the comfort of a bed at last and she passes out for the whole night and most of the day. When the evening arrives, she heads downstairs for another meal and some mead. Her mind is heavy with sleep still, but it doesn’t take a fool to figure out that this is the kind of place where you keep your head down. There are sly characters in every gloomy corner, watching her – and watching her pockets.

She heads outside for some fresh air, and to stretch her bad leg. She’s leaning on a walkway railing, enjoying the peace. And then out of the quiet comes the sound of _gurgling_. Nara looks down. In the water below is the unmistakeable shape of a man face down – and he’s not moving.

“Shit.” She clatters down the nearest staircase, battling the shooting pain in her calf, and without really thinking about what she’s doing, she drops into the freezing cold water. She’s injured, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s as strong as an ox. She gets hold of a meaty arm and drags the man out of the water, staggering on her leg once she’s back on the platform. She rolls him over and slaps at his face. After a few moments he opens his eyes. He’s confused at first but then he sits up and vomits up an impressive amount of water.

The commotion must have carried to up above, because she hears heavy footsteps and then turns to see the ugly bastard who greeted her the day before.

“Dirge!” he barks, hastily dropping to his knees and giving the other man a great big thump on the back.

“ _Dirge_?” she says, before she can stop herself. Dirge coughs violently.

“My brother,” Maul tells her brusquely. “Are you alright?”

Dirge nods, then retches up more water. His breath reeks of mead. Nara wrinkles her nose.

“He’s drunk.”

“Idiot,” Maul mutters, hauling his brother to his feet. Nara struggles upright. The two of them tower above her. “I owe you one,” Maul tells her. “I’ll watch you’re back whilst you’re here. But you better not cause any trouble.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why would I want help from people like you?”

He looks her right in the eye. “In a place like this, you need all the friends you can get.”

 

§

 

It takes her less than a week to get her ass handed to her. Maul is on watch when he hears the unmistakeable sound of fists on flesh. He seeks out the sound and finds her on the ground, curled in on herself, trying to shield her face from two big guys beating the shit out of her. It doesn’t take Maul long to deal with them. He even breaks a jaw, just for good measure. They slink off like kicked dogs. He yanks her to her feet and she sprays blood all over him when she tries to speak. Her face is fucked up pretty bad, but at least she’s still got all of her teeth.

Maul takes her down to the Flagon and sits her down in a chair whilst he patches her up.

“So,” he says, as he’s dabbing at the nasty cut on her nose. “You gonna tell me about your friends?” She looks up at him, incredulous. “Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’ve got all night. And you’re not goin’ anywhere until I find out.” He puts his face real close to hers. “Nothing happens in Riften without me knowing about it.” He chucks down the rag and picks up some salve that Tonilia threw at him when she saw the mess he was dragging behind him. “Well?”

“Don’t worry about it, ok?” she snaps. “They were only after me.”

“And who sent ‘em?”

“Some noble with a stick up their arse.”

“What noble?”

“Guy called Yann. From Markarth.”

“Why?”

“…I beat the shit out of him. ‘Cause he got guys like that to do the same to me. Then I took all his septims.”

“Best decision of your life, huh?”

He can see that for a moment she’s fighting back a grin. “I guess you could say that. He used to bet on me in fights. That was half of how he got so dirty rich in the first place. But whenever I lost, or didn’t show…well. Y’know.”

“He sounds like a dense fuck.”

“Well now he’s a dense fuck with no money.”

“Got enough left to send thugs after you.”

She grimaces as he takes her hand and starts wiping the blood of her knuckles. “I’ll find a way to get him to leave me alone. Don’t worry about me, big guy.” When he’s done, he sits down and takes a good long look at her. She stares back at him with one swollen eye. “What, is there something on my face?”

He snorts. “You’re more interesting than you look.” Then he leans forwards. “Can I get you a drink?”


End file.
